Messa Chronicles 1 Vengance
by metallover
Summary: The first in the series of short stories explaining the origins of the Black Drakes from War of Dawn. Bam's gang is dead, and all he cares about is getting even. Vengance is all that matters.


_This, by some strange twist of fate, was the second short story I ever finished. Yay. I won't even bother explaining it. Too slack. You read now._

It Sucks being in a Hive. It sucks being on a hive planet. It sucks not being able to get anywhere in life. And it really sucks when you get shot in a gang war. The Hive City Gurgurant Prime is the capital of the planet of Mesa, and the gang situation is the same as any other hive planet. Sucky. That's life. You live, join a gang, end up dead with a hole in your chest. Like my friends.

Bam's world was a haze of red pain and black hatred. He limped up the staircase to his room, holding the fresh bullet wound put in his leg earlier in the evening. Reaching the fingerprint-coded door, he had to stop to wipe the blood off his index finger so the scan would be accepted. As quick as he could without toppling over, he reached his bed and sat down, burying his face in his hands. His thoughts turned to his friends.

_They're dead. They're all dead. All because of me._

He remembered the intensity of the shoot out earlier that evening. His gang was a fraction of a larger gang, the Black Drakes Underhive Mercenary Force was their official name, the one the upper families used to sponsor them, but this far down, they were just the Drakes. Even though the Drakes were just a small division of the House Lockeheart Gangs. Bam's own Uncle was an Upper-Hive type, not to mention their biggest backer. The gang called him the Boss. The members of his sect had all been his closest friends since childhood. Now they were gone. David, Andrew, Dylan, Mara, everyone. The only one left was Aaron, who was away in rehab for his addiction to some drug Bam couldn't remember.

_He's gonna start again when he hears this. _

Bam felt the hole in his leg, and decided it wasn't worth him bleeding out before he got his vengeance. Standing gingerly and favoring his left side, he limped painfully to the grimy sink.

The Fubuki's were supposed to be an easy target, with nothing more than sticks and harsh language to defend themselves with. His sources had been wrong. They'd all had the latest in high tech weapons, and military grade flak armor to boot. His sources were going to pay. But he had to stay focused. Get the bullet out.

He pulled his chair to his sink, and sat down, drawing his knife. With a sharp breath, he plunged the sharp metal into his wound, searching for the bullet. After ten minutes of agony, he managed to get the offending hunk of lead out of his thigh, and slapped a pad of synth-flesh onto the wound. At least the gang's sponsors had outfitted them with proper meds. The cheapskates wouldn't even give them decent guns. Not that it mattered any more. Bam was going to kill the Fubuki's with his knife alone if he had to.

Limping back over to his bed, he collapsed in a heap, and slept in a dreamless sleep that felt like forever.

_"Hey, wanker. Wake up."_

_"Up! Come on!"_

_"Dammit Bam! Wake the gak up!"_

Bam sat bolt upright, shielding his eyes from the grey sunlight streaming in from the window.

"'Bout gakking time," Aaron said, looking down at Bam, arms folded in annoyance.

"Aaron? I thought you were still in rehab," Bam said after a particularly long yawn.

"Was, till you idiots declared war on the Fubuki's."

"We were told they were weak," Bam said trying to stand up, but yelping and falling back to his bed.

"They sure did a number on you," Aaron said pulling Bam's chair over from the sink. "What about the others? Are they all as bad off as you are?"

Bam lowered his head. "I wish. Aaron, they're all dead."

Aaron was silent for a long time, before finally saying, "Sucks to be them, doesn't it?"

Bam laughed at this. He'd forgotten the only reason Aaron had gotten into the gang was because of him. The others all thought that Aaron was weird and creepy, and possibly a mutant. But when push came to shove, Bam was always certain Aaron had his back. "Well," Bam sighed, getting up slowly this time. "We'll need to show the Fubuki's that the Drakes are no push over's. We need to punish them for that little indignation we suffered last night."

"You just wanna get 'em back cause the shot you," Aaron teased.

"Up yours, I'm serious about this. The fact that I got shot has very little to do with it," Bam defended. Aaron's response was a raised eyebrow.

"Okay, fine. An eye for an eye, right?" Bam said, giving in.

"I'll contact the boss and see if he wants to give us any support. Y'know, seeing as we'll be taking out the people that keep taking out his weapons shipments." Aaron said, standing and heading to the door. "Get some rest, and get better. I'll need you for this one."

"Get gakked! I'm the gang leader, not you!" Bam said, taking a step towards Aaron.

Laughing, the boy closed the door. That's all they were. Mere boys. Sixteen year olds. Barely old enough to look old enough to buy cheap booze. His friends had died far too young. Most gangs were made up of adults with nothing better to do, or middle aged people that had been in the gang since childhood. One day, that would be him, and not just some puny sect leader, but leader of the whole damn gang. Aware of the painful throbbing in his leg, Bam limped back to his bed.

Two weeks later, and Bam could still barely walk. But he had a duty to avenge his friends, and he'd be dammed if a small hole in his leg would stop him. The wound had miraculously been spared the fungal rots and gangrenes that usually infect a wounded ganger. Again he was loosing focus, and with a quick shake of his head, brought himself back to more important matters. A small shuttle belonging to one of the Drakes' sponsors had landed, and Bam was about to meet his new gang.

The first person out of the shuttle was a girl around his age, with shoulder length black hair, baggy clothes and thick glasses perched high on her nose. Bam honestly thought she might have been a representative of his uncle, until her shirt shifted, and he saw the red gang markings of a Juve. She shook hands with both Bam and Aaron, introducing herself as Lucca. The next was a tall, pale redheaded boy with dark sun shades on. Bam got a small electric shock when he shook hands with the boy, and instantly recognized him as a psyker. The psyker boy introduced himself as Michael. Two more girls got off the ship, one a skinny blonde, who told them her name was Nina, the other your average brunette, who called herself Alex. Bam's attention snapped back to the ship when another guy strutted down the ramp. The effect was ruined when he stumbled on the hem of his coat. He was about Bam's height, and had close cropped brown hair.

"Gakking coat," he muttered, shaking hands with Bam. "I'm John."

The group, at least twice the size of Bam's old gang, travelled to the gang's meeting place, an abandoned bar in the slums of the Hive.

"So, that's it?" John asked, sitting on an old bar stool.

"That's it," Bam replied. "That's where we stand. We infiltrate the Fubuki mansion, kill everything that moves, and high tail it outta there before the Watch and Arabites show up."

"Sounds fun," Michael said, leaning back in his chair.

"Sounds like a loud of absolute shit to me," John said. "You suggest we go and try to kill rival gang with upper-hive backing, all because they killed your friends?" John had been a pain in Bam's ass the entire meeting. It was obvious that John was the leader of the gang where they came from, but this was Bam's turf.

"His friends, not mine," Aaron said, holding up his hands.

"Whatever," John half yelled.

"Have you got weapons?" Alex asked.

"Wait," Nina said. "You don't actually think we can do this, do you?"

"Anything's possible," Michael said pensively.

"Fine, but we'll need guns, and lots of 'em," John said, finally caving.

The next hour and a half was spent discussing plans, best case scenarios, and worst case scenarios. The gang decided that Bam, John, Nina and Alex would all storm the rear entrance and cause a diversion, while Aaron, Lucca and Michael would sneak in through the ventilation system, get to the power plant for the mansion in the sub-levels, and set simple explosives. The first team would meet up with the inside man, and assassinate Gerold Fubuki. Then they'd high-tail it out of there, and watch the fireworks from their base. This was all well and good in theory, but Bam knew when the first bullets flew, most plans turned to downhive goo. Bam was also amazed at the way John kept trying to contradict and prove wrong everything Bam said. If it weren't for John, the meeting would have only lasted half as long. So on their way out, Bam pulled John to the side.

"Hey man, what's your problem?" he whispered.

"My problem? It's you pretty boy!" John yelled, obviously not feeling the need for concealment.

"What the hell did I do to you?" Bam asked, voice rising.

"I'm the leader of that gang, not you!"

"Maybe where you come from, but here, they're my gang, just like you are!"

"What? You gakking piece of sump slime, I'll-"

Before John could finish, Michael was behind him, grabbing him from behind, and obviously doing something to his mind.

"If you two can't play nice together," Lucca said emerging from behind Michael, "I don't actually see how this is going to work. We can't afford in-fighting like this."

Bam decided he liked her.

"Not my fault," John said, squirming out of Michael's grip. "He started it."

"I care not. He obviously wasn't about to punch the sect leader, was he?" Lucca chastised John, even flicking him on the forehead to emphasize the 'sect leader' part. Bam decided he really liked her.

John swore a final time and stomped off in the direction of the hab they were staying in, a run down old piece of sump slime that wasn't really made to fit a whole gang of juves, not to mention two of them in a power struggle.

"Sorry about John," Lucca apologized. "He's used to being the boss."

"A bit hot headed, isn't he?" Bam asked, walking towards the hab.

"He's used to taking care of us. No one else would. When that guy approached us with an offer to become Drakes, it was him that made the decision. He's saved us all a number of times."

"You're not really much of a ganger, are you?" Bam asked, looking back.

"Nah, not really. I didn't really have much choice. My parents died in a fire a few months after my brother joined the Guard. I had nowhere else to go, so John took me in."

_Just like me._ Bam thought. "Why are you telling me all this?" he asked.

"Well, John was the boss, but now you are, so I thought it you'd want to know."

Bam turned around to look at Lucca, realizing how attractive she was. He put it down to the hormonal teenager thing, but something about the curves under the oversized clothes really got to him. Her glasses reflected the light, hiding her eyes, and Bam hoped she was thinking the same about him. He turned and continued walking, pulse pounding in his ears. The two didn't say anything else to each other for the rest of the night.

One week had passed, and the weapons had been divided among the Drakes. Bam hadn't spoken to John or Lucca since the night of the meeting, but Aaron had been riding his ass about the attack for the last four days.

"Why in the name of the warp can't I go with you!" he yelled one night.

"Because your a pain in the ass!" Bam yelled back, finally snapping.

"You need me there, and you know it!" Aaron yelled back, getting in Bam's face, or as close as he could get, as Bam was a good head taller.

"I keep telling you, I need you to lead the second team!"

"But I don't trust those newbies! How will I know they've got your back?"

"Aaron, look at it my way for a second," Bam said, trying to calm down. "If I know you're in charge of the other group, then I know that you'll archive your goal. Besides, you're the only one who knows how to rig the explosives."

"Lucca knows how!"

"But she's never actually done it before. You have."

This seemed to get through to Aaron, if only for a few seconds. "But what if that sump-rat John shoots you in the back?"

"He wouldn't dare," Bam laughed. "My uncle owns this gang. If so much as a rumor about John blasting me gets back to him, he's as good as algae."

"Really ugly algae, maybe," Aaron muttered causing Bam to break out in fits of laughter, soon joined by Aaron.

After their giggles died down, Bam turned more serious. "I just need to know you've got my back, even if you're not actually there."

"You can count on it. I'll make a nice boom, maybe a bit of a fire column." Aaron said relaxing.

"Nah, nothing fancy. Just send 'em to hell," Bam said, sitting down.

"Heh, no problem," Aaron said, sitting opposite to Bam. After a few seconds of silence, Aaron said "You know I've always got your back, man. Through everything we've done, I've always been there. That raid on the merchant caravan, the shoot-out in the train station, what has to be thousands of bar fights, but, well..."

"Well, what?" Bam asked, curiously.

"I just feel like you're pushing me away. Ever since I've gotten back." Aaron admitted.

"I'm mourning," Bam said, resting his head in his hands. "They may not have been your friends, but they sure as hell were mine. And I miss them. This should be us planning this raid, not these pampered uphive juves. What happened?"

"It's a dangerous business. People get killed. You couldn't have done anything about it," Aaron said soothingly.

"I should be dead with them. I'm living on borrowed time, here."

"Nah," Aaron said, surprised with his friend's startling change of character. Usually Bam was an indomitable spirit, strong, reliable, a little pig-headed, but otherwise a pillar of strength the rest of the gang drew theirs from. Seeing his friend like this was a big shock. "Besides, even if you are, don't 'ya think you should do something with it?"

Bam had to admit, he had a point. In his self pity, he'd never even considered what this raid was about. Revenge. Vengeance. Punishment. He was going to punish the Fubukis for what they'd done to him. What they'd done to his gang. His family. "Thanks, Aaron."

"No problem," Aaron said, standing up and going to leave. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got explosives to make."

Once Aaron was gone, Bam smiled. For the first time in almost a month, he felt something that had thus far eluded him. He felt hope.

The night had come, and Bam and John's team was in position. Michael, Lucca and Aaron were moving to the ventilation shaft that their inside man had told them would lead to the sub-level generator. _The others get to have all the fun_, Michael thought.

"Man, the others get to have all the fun," Aaron said.

"I was just thinking that," Michael said to him, being shushed by an angry Lucca.

"Look," she whispered, pointing out of the bushes towards the shaft. "It's guarded."

"A ventilation shaft?" Michael asked incredulously.

"Yeah, Fubuki's a bit paranoid. Besides, they already tried this approach." Aaron whispered, shifting to get a better view.

"What makes you think it'll work this time?" Lucca whispered, outraged this little tidbit of information hadn't come up.

"They think we're all dead," Aaron whispered simply.

"Wonderful," Michael whispered sarcastically, rolling his eyes behind the sun shades.

"Besides, there's only two guards. Facing the other way. We sneak up, slit their throats, and let the Emperor deal with them," Aaron said, voicing his plan.

"I'll let you two do it then, someone has to look after the explosives," Lucca whispered, patting the two boys on the shoulder.

"Scardey-gretchin," Michael taunted.

"We can handle it, but we gotta do it soon. We need to be in and out in thirty minutes," Aaron told them, drawing his knife. All three of them had been given stub pistols, and Aaron and Michael both had knives. The heavier stuff went to team one, the las rifle, the stub guns, and the heavy stubber that John coveted (that was kinda a given, though). Team two had protested, but with team one's distraction, two's resistance shouldn't be that bad.

Michael nodded, and drew his own knife. The two shed their explosive belts, handing them to Lucca. Then, without a sound, they snuck up behind the guards. Michael's let out a soft gurgle, the knife cutting clean through the jugular and air pipe. Aaron's had enough time to whirl around before he got Aaron's knife up to the hilt in his neck. By pure dumb luck, it punctured his jugular, and the man went down without another sound. Lucca came running over, carrying the explosives. First blood had gone to the Drakes.

John walked out of his cover, pulling the trigger to his prized heavy stubber. Left and right, Fubukis fell, gapping holes left by the accelerated pieces of lead tearing through them. Bam and the two girls followed soon after, blasting away. The familiar bang of stub guns going off and the snap crack of the las rifle were familiar sounds that made his heart sing for more blood. _Forget being in the guard or being one of the Astartes, this is the life._ Before the others could get more than a few shots off, John had already killed all the guards.

"Holy shit, John!" Bam exclaimed, lowering the las rifle.

"I'm not complaining," Alex said.

"Forget ladies first, we're fine back here," Nina agreed.

"Follow me," was John's answer.

Grumbling, Bam followed the heavy-weapon-wielding nut job, followed by the girls bringing up the rear. John was stealing his thunder, this was Bam's kill, and John was only trying to show him up so he could take control of the gang. Fat chance of that ever happening, but still...

Lucca hated Bam at this moment. Forcing her to crawl through these tunnels, lugging a good ten kilos of explosives behind her. Yes, Bam was in trouble if he survived this. _If_. That was the magic word. She'd never been good in a fire fight. John had known that, and left her out of them. But Bam saw fit to send her into the front. Even if it was the less dangerous job, she still had to crawl through the dusty vents, getting a good look at Michael's shoes.

"Almost there," Aaron whispered back.

_Great, I get to blow up a house. Woo. _Lucca thought to herself, lugging the bag of home made bombs.

Michael was ecstatic. Ever since he was a child he knew he was a pyromaniac. He only wished he wasn't a weak little telepath, but a real pyrokene, like his older sister. That would be so much cooler. Sure, he could control fire, he'd proved this to himself and countless rival gangs, but he couldn't make fire. Not with his mind, anyway. A small smirk crept onto his face. No sir, he'd _never_ had a problem making a fire.

They were coming up on the grate, and he had to stop himself from fidgeting. The hardest part was the waiting. The right moment for the perfect mushroom explosion. That's what he was going for, and the explosives reflected that. Little ignition, lots of fuel, that's the best mushroom explosions. If he wanted a big bang and impact, he would've chosen a large ignition, and small amounts of fuel, just enough to make a fire large enough to spread. Being a pyromaniac was a fine art form, and Michael took his art very seriously.

_This is every little boy's dream! I love my job so much,_ he was thinking as he and the other guy, his name eluded Michael at that point in time, worked to remove the grate. His fingers were twitching so much that he dropped the wrench three times before Lucca shoved past him to do it. He knew what his problem was; It had been too long since he'd blown up something on this scale! John wouldn't let him draw attention to himself. That's what was making Michael so twitchy, the anticipation. He leaned back and took four deep breaths to compose himself, then helped Lucca and whatshisface move the grate. Extending his consciousness as he'd been taught, and was able to discern that there were two guards watching the reactor, and two more outside the door. He did the maths. They'd have to take the two out quickly and quietly, and then move to the two outside the door. Apart from those four, all the others were busy holding off the others.

_I'd hate to be them right about now,_ Michael thought. _John seemed pretty pissed_.

John was a whirlwind of death and destruction, wherever he pointed his Heavy Stubber, enemies died. No one could sneak on them, he was just too quick. Three times already the others had to dive for cover because he pointed the gun their way. He spun again, putting Bam in his sights for a second before the idiot moved. Two more rival gangers died, one with a heap of mush where his head was, the other having an arm blown off.

The second one fell down screaming. Bam got up and walked over to the wailing man.

"No mercy. Sorry dude, nothing personal," Bam said, firing tree shots into his chest and head. The girls gasped at his ruthlessness.

John's respect for Bam went up slightly. The fact that he could execute a man, gun him down in cold blood, showed John that maybe this guy wasn't as big a pansy as he'd thought. These thoughts were quickly dashed when he gave a quick prayer to guide the man's soul to the Emperor's light. Yep, he was still a pansy.

The informant moved quickly through the busy corridors. She was the reason the Drakes were able to break through the security, she'd given them the schematics for the building, and she'd be dead if any of the Fubuki's found out. Fortunately, Michael's sister Ellie was a psyker as well, and managed to slip by mostly unnoticed. But her gifts were more powerful than her brother's. A pyrokene and telepath, a rare combination, and behind the brown contact lenses were startling green eyes and a dangerous intelligence. She smirked. Her brother was sending out psychic ripples of excitement. He was obviously about to blow something up. _Boys,_ she thought. _They get excited over such small things._ She then experienced a small jolt, the psyker equivalent of a dirty look. Michael and his sister were the last two of their tribe, the natives that used to inhabit the planet having died out or bred out over the years, and pure bred 'Fire Men' as they were called were rare. Indeed, it did look like Michael and Ellie's heads were on fire, with bright orange hair. The only downside is that they stuck out like sore thumbs, and had to waste all their money on hair dye. Her brother refused to, but she was the infiltrator, and she had to fit in. Plus the Fubuki's all had black hair. Not a single blonde and very few brunettes. She decided to go with brown, deciding to be different, but still fit in. A small bit of excitement. Michael hated it, but that's why she did it.

Bam had to practically run to keep up with John. The girls were lagging behind, and his leg was killing him. But still he ran on. John was leading, and Bam couldn't let him. All thoughts of death left his mind; John was the sole focus of his attention.

"We need to stop for a minute," Alex panted.

"Fine, we'll stop," Bam said, trying hard to control his breathing.

"Gretchin," John said, stopping and looking around for something to shoot.

Nina didn't say anything; she just slumped to the ground, panting hard. The truth was, the newbies had gotten soft and unfit in their cushy stationing, and Bam was wounded. The only truly fit gangers among them were John and Aaron. John being naturally fit was still panting slightly. Bam realized that he was trying to show him up. _Well, two can play at that game,_ Bam thought.

"We move," was all he said. The girls moaned in protest, and John pursed his lips, but the truth was it was Bam that was in charge, and they had to do as he said.

"If we get to the meet up point before our mole, we can rest there," Bam told them, experimentally putting weight on his bad leg.

"How do we know this mole isn't going to betray us?" Alex asked.

"Command placed him here, so I'm guessing that he's trustworthy," Bam said.

John didn't say anything, just hefted his gun and moved to take point again.

"John, you take rear," Bam said, without looking at him. John hesitated for a moment before grunting and moving behind the girls.

_Okay, now, take point, kill whatever moves, and show John up,_ Bam thought, drawing his pistol as well. _I only wish it was that easy._ Bam rested the butt of his pistol on the top of his rifle, giving him a wider range than John had. That was the plan, anyway.

The group started moving, Bam shooting whatever moved, but moving at a more cautious pace than John had.

Michael dropped like a cat, his knife in his hand. Before the guard even knew what hit him, his throat was slit ear to ear. The other whirled, bringing his gun up. Before the man could get a shot off, Michael buried his knife in the man's forehead.

"God I love my job," Michael whispered, pulling his knife out of the man's head while Aaron and Lucca landed heavily behind him.

"Was all that really necessary?" Lucca asked, looking at the corpses with distaste.

"Not really," Aaron said, getting ready to open the door. "But it sure is fun."

Before Lucca could reply Aaron had opened the door, stabbed one man in the base of his skull, and shot the other in the face.

"Now that was necessary," Michael said to Lucca, dragging the bodies into the small room. "Now if you'll excuse me, I believe I have a building to blow up."

Ellie was running late. She was never late. But to make it look like she was one of the good little Fubuki slaves, she had to swing by the armory.

She got a psychic ping from Michael. _Time to kick it into high gear_.

He was almost ready to blow the mansion.

"Gakking die!" Bam screamed, slamming the butt of his pistol onto the head of an idiot stupid enough to get within arms reach. The man slumped to the floor, his skull cracked from the blow.

Bam was exhausted, his leg throbbing, his arms tired. He didn't care though; it was time to pull out. Michael, Aaron and Lucca were setting the bombs, and it was time to go. The only problem was the way out was _very_ well defended. And they'd still have to meet this informant.

_What a pain in the ass_.

"John, take the girls and pull back, I'll go on ahead and meet the informant," Bam ordered over his shoulder.

"No. No gakking way, we are not leaving you on your own," Alex told Bam.

"Yeah, you'll be killed," Nina added.

John just huffed.

"Look, it's my decision, now turn around and get the hell out of here!" Bam yelled.

The others looked surprised, then John said to the girls "Come on. If he wants to die, I say let him." The other three turned around, and headed back to the entrance.

Ellie skidded around the corner, and into the barrel of a lasgun and a stub pistol. Then she recognized the guy behind them from the picture the boss had sent her.

"Wait!" she screamed, throwing up her hands.

"'Bout gakking time you turned up," Bam said, lowering his guns.

"Sorry, had to get some presses," Ellie said, gesturing to the duffel bag at her hip. "Here, this one's for you," she added, pulling out an antique power sword.

The blade was a little dull, and it was definitely ancient, but it looked like the kind of sword a Fleet Admiral or some other important military type would have. Bam accepted it wordlessly, in a state of shock. _Such beauty, such balance. It's as if it was made for me._

"Hey, can we go now?" Ellie asked, obviously in a hurry.

_The gakking bomb. I've forgotten about the gakking bomb,_ Bam thought, stunned.

"So move your ass!" Ellie yelled, dragging a startled Bam.

Just what he needed. Another psyker.

"I heard that!" She added.

Michael was giddy like a schoolgirl. He was finally going to blow this slime-pit of a mansion, and be done with it. He couldn't wait. Several times while crawling back through the vents he'd been tempted to hit the 'boom button' as he liked to call it. But he remembered the last time he'd gotten close to one of his masterpieces, and his eyebrows had just grown back. But now he was outside, and the only thing that kept him from blowing the building was his gakking sister. She was still in there, forcing him to wait. And he was not impressed.

_Hurry the frig up in there_ he sent to her.

_Bite me, Mickey, you wait till I'm out or I'll haunt you until the end of your days_ was her answer.

Michael sighed.

"What is it?" Lucca asked.

"I want to make boom," Michael told her.

"As soon as Bam gets out," Aaron told him.

"Yeah, yeah, I won't torch your precious boyfriend," Michael sneered back.

The punch came out of nowhere, connecting with Michael's cheek, and knocking his shades off. Then Aaron was on him, howling like a deranged animal. Michael crackled with warp energy, and sent Aaron flying with a blast of pure warp power. The boy landed in a heap ten meters away, smoking. Michael bent down to get his shades.

"Don't mess with me," Michael told Aaron, who was starting to stir.

"Warp spawned filth," Aaron said, spitting blood.

_Don't do it_.

Lucca's warning thought was so loud, even though she wasn't a psyker, Michael still heard it. "Don't do it," she repeated, through her mouth this time.

"He's not worth the effort," Michael said, turning away from Aaron, and moving off into the bushes.

"Where are you going now?" Lucca called after him.

"To kill something," was his answer.

His figure walking into the dark was reflected in the sun shades sitting on the ground where they fell.

_To kill something._

Ellie stopped dead.

"What? What is it?" Bam said, stopping a few paces ahead of her.

"Nothing," she said. "Come on, we should keep moving."

"My thoughts exactly," Bam joked, and started running again.

John, Nina and Alex all ran like they were on fire.

_We will be in a few minutes_ John though, checking his chronometer.

_Shit! Ten more minutes!_

"Move ladies! We've got ten minutes!" He told the girls.

They were running through the back corridors used by the cooks and guards of the household. They were grey permacrete, no fancy decoration, only the lighting and the occasional sign on the wall. The corridors were abandoned, save for the three gangers running through them.

Out of nowhere las bolts flew down the corridor at the trio.

"Shit!" Nina yelled, falling down.

"Oh, for gak's sake!" John yelled, turning back, grabbing her and throwing her over his shoulder in one fluid motion. The trio kept running.

They came up to an intersection.

"Alex, can you carry her?" John asked.

"I think so," she said hesitantly.

"What are you going to do?" Nina asked as John put her on her feet, and Alex grabbed her.

"Buy you some time," John said, loading another drum into his heavy stubber. "Now move!"

The two girls started running.

John stepped out from behind the corner and let loose a volley of stub shells, screaming an incoherent war cry.

Bam and Ellie ran out a door into the night, and headed for the bushes.

_Where are they? _Bam thought.

"Over there!" Ellie cried, and turned to run towards the others.

Nina, Alex, Lucca and Aaron sat in the bushes, Aaron and Nina's wounds being tended to by Alex, the gangs closest thing to a medic.

"Where's Michael and John?" Bam asked, skidding into the foliage.

"John stayed behind to cover their retreat, and Michael got pissed and went to kill something," Lucca told them.

"For shit's sake!" Bam yelled standing and running back to the mansion.

"Bam! Where are you going!?" Nina called after him.

Bam didn't answer, but Ellie got a quick glimpse into his thoughts.

_Not again._

"Don't worry, ladies," Aaron said. "I'll protect you."

"Pervert," Lucca muttered.

Bam was exhausted. He was sick of chasing John around.

_I should just let the ass hole get blown up _he thought, running back through the Fubuki mansion. But he knew that if he let John die, he'd regret it. He just couldn't live with more blood on his hands.

The sound of gunshots was getting louder. Bam turned the corner to see John shooting at close to twenty house guards. Bam started adding to John's firestorm.

"Time to go!" Bam called to John.

"Can't!" John yelled back. "Been shot!"

Bam didn't hesitate. He ran up and grabbed John around the waist, flinging the wounded ganger over his shoulder.

"Keep shooting!" Bam yelled.

"You don't have to tell me twice!" John answered, and resumed his rain of bullets.

Gerold Fubuki considered himself a lucky man. He'd been born into the main house of one of the most successful gangs in the Gurgurant underhive, risen through the ranks mostly intact, and now headed his gang in whatever direction he felt like. But when the Black Drakes decided to try to kill him, everything turned to sump slime. His empire was crumbling, and he had only one person to blame; Demetrious Lockeheart, the Leader of the Black Drakes.

That whoreson bastard had ruined his ambitions for the Uperhive, and now he'd sent a band of assassins to finish him off.

Reports were coming in from everywhere that people were wounded or already dead, the main power generator had been breached, and now the gangers were going to escape.

Standing just over seven feet tall in his Colossus Spyrer rig, he was an intimidating sight, with huge powerfists for hands, and bolters attached to the backs of them, he felt he could take the whole of the Black Drakes on himself. His only undefended spot was his neck and head.

Just as he was about to order the reserve guards to finish the intrusive Drakes, a drop of blood fell out of his nose, followed by a small trickle.

"I have a message from Demetrious," someone behind him said.

He wheeled to see a skinny, dirty little Drake Juve with bright red hair. His eyes were closed.

"He says you were a worthy opponent, but he's tired of playing," the juve said. "Goodbye, Gerold Fubuki."

The juve opened his eyes, and a monumental pressure crushed Fubuki's brain while it was still inside his skull.

His last sight in the world was the two piercing emerald eyes of an Alpha class psyker.

Lucca was worried. Michael, John and Bam were all still in the building, which was set to blow in any minute.

Michael appeared at a side door, and walked casually from it to the bushes.

"Did I leave my glasses here?" he asked as if nothing happened.

"Did you see Bam or John while you were in there?" She asked, handing Michael his shades.

"Kill anything?" Ellie asked with a smirk.

"Oh, Ellie," Michael said with surprise. "You look good with brown hair."

"Did you get him or not?" she asked, removing her contacts to reveal eyes similar to Michael's.

"Yeah, Fubuki's dead," Michael told them.

"Great, now all we're waiting on is Bam and John," Alex said.

Deep in the Fubuki mansion, right in the center, was the power generator. An old style cold fusion generator that, if provoked, would blow a hole in the underhive three levels down. And provoking it was the Black Drakes' plan. Michael and Aaron's bomb would make just a big enough explosion to trigger a train reaction, and blow the Fubukis back to Terra.

On the bomb, a small digital readout reached zero, and the entire complex was incinerated.

Bam and John had just cleared the door when the bomb went off. Both were thrown to the ground, ten feet away, and were covered by debris.

Bam was first to stir. Coughing dust, he sat up.

"Holy shit, Michael," Bam muttered.

John coughed and got onto his hands and knees. "Ouch"

"You alright?" Bam asked, getting up and limping over to where John was.

"Why'd you come back?" John asked, standing up.

"Dunno," Bam said. "Seemed like the right thing to at the time."

John let out a small laugh. "Looks like we did what we came here to do."

"Yeah," Bam said.

_You can rest now, guys_ he thought. _I got 'em. _

_Rest in peace._

"You know, like, the entire time you were carrying me that fancy new sword of yours was poking me in the nuts."

"Way to kill the moment man."

_The End_

_I don't know if that ending really worked. I thought I'd throw some comedy in there, because that's just the kind of guy I am, but... Meh. I'll let the readers decide. Don't like it? Let me know, and my future works will have a little more serious endings. Thanks for reading, and hopefully it wasn't TOO bad. That's what feedback's for! Let me know what you thought. Just don't waste my time with "This sucked", it doesn't help. WHY did it suck? That's what I want._


End file.
